Poetry and Quotations

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And like a dying lady

And like a dying lady, lean and pale, 
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass.

Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems